By 9 a.m., she’s already met two new clients, each facing felony charges. By noon, she’s given her case in front of a judge, scrambled to finalize paperwork, and returned half a dozen voicemails from frantic family members. “Sometimes it feels like my client’s freedom depends on my fifth cup of coffee,” she said, chuckling. For nearly a decade, this Cook County (IL) public defender has juggled overwhelming caseloads, high expectations, and the emotional toll of defending people society often forgets.
Across the country, public defenders carry the weight of the criminal justice system, often without the resources to do so effectively. Underpaid and overworked, they remain one of the most crucial yet chronically under-supported arms of legal defense in America. They are the only hope for millions of Americans facing prosecution without the financial means to hire private counsel.
The National Advisory Commission on Criminal Justice Standards and Goals recommends that public defenders handle no more than approximately 1,000 cases per year — already a staggering number when considering the stakes of each case. That limit includes a mix of felonies, misdemeanors, mental health and juvenile cases, and appeals. But across the U.S., public defenders often far exceed even this high bar. A 2022 report by the American Bar Association found that public defense offices would need to increase their attorney workforce by at least 40% to meet recommended caseload standards. As it stands, many attorneys are managing double, sometimes triple, the advised limit.
“Sometimes I have five trials in a single day,” said a recent law school graduate who now works in the Cook County Public Defender’s office. “It’s both physically and emotionally exhausting. But I remember who I’m doing it for, and what they’re at risk of losing if I don’t give my best.”
For him, the motivation is personal. “As a first-generation immigrant and the son of a mother who didn’t speak English, I had to learn to advocate for us. When she faced deportation, I couldn’t help her the way I used to. If it weren’t for the public defender who represented her, we wouldn’t be in this country today.”
Stories like his are not uncommon. Many public defenders are driven by a deep commitment to justice and a desire to serve those who are vulnerable. But that drive often collides with the reality of what they give up. “It gets hard,” said the veteran attorney. “I understand why many leave. Not everyone can keep making the same sacrifices just because they love what they do.”
The toll the job takes is not limited to the courtroom. Public defenders often find it difficult to separate their work from their personal lives. The ten-year veteran is also a mother of three. “Sometimes I’ll come back from family court, after defending a mother trying to regain custody of her kids, and then walk into my own home and just want to squeeze my children and not cry.” The younger attorney, engaged to be married, said he often brings the stress home. “I leave the office at five, but I’m still working mentally. It’s hard to disconnect.”
One of the struggles many public defenders go through is being underpaid. According to public salary records, Cook County public defenders typically make between $70,000 and $120,000 annually, including bonuses. The younger attorney said he was offered $80,000 when he joined the office straight out of law school. “At first, I thought that was great money. But after seeing my caseload and responsibilities, it felt disproportionate. Still, I didn’t come into this for the paycheck. I did it because I wanted to help my community.”
Still, comparisons with peers working in big law are difficult to ignore. “It’s easy to compare yourself to friends at big law firms making $200,000 or more,” he said. “But they aren’t receiving the daily fulfillment I get. That’s what keeps me going, even when I’m stretched thin.”
Some states are beginning to recognize the urgency of public defense reform. In 2023, New York decided to put real money behind public defense, to the tune of approximately $250 million annually. This funding aims to reduce caseloads, improve attorney training, hire more support staff, and ensure fair compensation. In addition to funding, the state is implementing oversight structures to monitor workloads.
New Mexico has taken similar steps. In 2022, the state legislature approved a $5.3 million increase in funding for the public defender’s office, specifically aimed at reducing attorney workloads and improving outcomes for clients. These measures are part of a growing push to not only acknowledge the crisis in public defense but to address it through policy and funding.
But reform shouldn’t stop at those two states. In many states, public defenders are still expected to do more with less. The result is a system where outcomes often depend less on the facts of a case and more on the resources behind the defense team.
When defenders don’t have adequate time to prepare for trial, their clients often pay the price. To avoid risking a worse outcome at trial, many attorneys encourage plea deals, even when their client may be innocent. “It’s very common,” one attorney explained. “Mostly because without enough time or resources, you’d rather your client serve the least amount of time possible than gamble with a longer sentence at trial.”
While plea bargains resolve over 90 percent of criminal cases in the U.S., they also carry a serious risk: innocent people may plead guilty to avoid the threat of a harsher sentence at trial. That risk is real. According to the Innocence Project, about 11 percent of people exonerated through DNA evidence had originally pled guilty. And of the 311 total DNA exonerees, at least 10 had been represented by public defenders. These numbers don’t capture the full picture, but they suggest how easily someone, especially someone with an overworked court-appointed lawyer, can feel pressured into a plea.
The fallout? Life-changing. When public defenders are overburdened, it undermines the integrity of the entire justice system. Justice cannot be served if attorneys are forced to choose between rushing through a case or risking burnout. It cannot be served if the accused does not receive the time, attention, and care that a proper legal defense requires.
Some public defenders are calling for national standards that include caseload caps, guaranteed funding minimums, and better mental health support for attorneys. “There needs to be more advocacy in this field,” said the veteran defender. “That’s why I speak up. It’s not just about us. It’s about the people who rely on us.”
